


this boy.

by babblesmarie



Series: i kinda wanna be more [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, POV Alternating, i think jack only has like one pov oops, its like one blow job and two handjobs, its not very graphic, rated M for Mild sexytimes, vague mentions of jack's anxiety and past bullying/homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babblesmarie/pseuds/babblesmarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From graduation to the Fourth of July.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this boy.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this forever it seems oml.
> 
> Everything that comes after this in the series will be snapshots of their life after getting together.
> 
> All editing done by me, it's 3am and I have a job interview tomorrow so \\_(*-*)_/ The dialogue between Jack and Bitty for the first scene comes from the comic.
> 
> If you don't know, Dale Earnhardt Jr(son of Dale Sr, NASCAR legend) is having health issues and had to drop out of the Indy race and others. I know technically it doesn't fit in the timeline since this would be last summer and the Earnhardt news is recent, but it is popular conversation with everyone I know back home. No one but Jeff Gordon fans and those who don't have a favorite driver are happy about Gordon driving Earnhardt's car. Basically all you need to know for this fic is that the Earnhardts are to NASCAR what Wayne Gretzky and Sidney Crosby are to hockey and Southerners are emotional right now.

Bitty had prepared himself for the moment he would have to say good-bye to the seniors. He stared himself down in the mirror after his shower and promised to keep it together. So far he'd been unsuccessful. A couple of the seniors on the team had already left, saying it had been good to play together and wishing Bitty the best of luck. He didn't know them well but he still teared up as he fumbled for a meaningful response. If that was hard he had no idea how he was going to look Shitty and Jack in the eyes and do it all over again.

 

Shitty looked so different coming up the quad in his robes. Bitty had to close his eyes against the rising waterworks. Whether it was the fact that Shitty had cut his hair or that he was wearing respectable clothing that broke the dam, Bitty didn't know. He got halfway through a single sentence before his throat closed up. He hated being emotional sometimes. Shitty pulled him aside to stand in the shade beneath the nearest tree.

 

“Sorry,” Bitty said wiping at his eyes. “Sorry—give me a second.”

 

Shitty nodded, slinging an arm around Bitty's shoulders and pulling him close. “You act like I'm dying, brah,” he said after a moment, voice softer than Bitty had ever heard it.

 

“Well,” Bitty said, testing his voice. “With the way you go on about law school and your family you just might be.” He had hoped to start Shitty on some sort of tirade, to get him revved up so they could move past the part where they actually say good-bye. Shitty sighed and he sounded so much more tired and reserved than Bitty was used to. He squeezed his arm around Bitty's neck in affection.

 

“It sucks. It's going to keep sucking. It's gonna suck harder and more frequently than that time we were on a winning streak and Holster—“

 

Bitty laughed, dropping his forehead down to Shitty's arm. “I get the image,” he said. “No matter how much I wish I didn't.”

 

The two of them stood like that for a while. Bitty sidled closer to Shitty. If someone had told him in high school that one of his best friends would be some guy named Shitty who had a pornstache and rarely wore pants he wouldn't know how to respond. Now he could hardly fathom the thought of not being able to see him every day, of his bed not smelling comfortably of marijuana after impromptu cuddle sessions.

 

Shitty pulled Bitty into a proper hug, careful not to tousle the delicately styled hairdo he had spent the morning fussing over. To compensate he picked the smaller boy up off the ground and swung him around in circles.

 

“This is not good-bye, do you hear me?” he said when Bitty was safely back on the grass. “You are stuck with me forever, I thought you knew that by now.”

 

Bitty held his chin up, squared his shoulders. “If I don't hear from you once a week you're in big trouble, got it?”

 

Shitty raised two fingers to his temple, saluting as he walked backwards to the parking lot where his family waited. His smile was goofy, all teeth and mischief. “You got it, boss.” He blew a parting air kiss before he turned around. He detoured by a small group of art kids to snag Lardo away and then he was gone.

 

One down.

 

All that was left for Bitty to do was to say good-bye to the Zimmermanns. He waved when he caught Alicia's attention. She smiled and winked from where she stood talking to George. She made a gesture that Bitty interpreted as: “I'll call you.”

 

Bob took some work to track down, but when Bitty found him he was rewarded with a bone-crushing hug and something said in French. “Don't be a stranger, Eric,” he said. “You're coming up to visit one of these days. Tell your mother Alicia and I will be in touch soon.”

 

“Will do, Mr. Jack's Dad,” Bitty quipped.

 

Bob laughed and hugged him again before waving and returning to the group he was with. How Bitty came to be on a first name basis with “Bad” Bob and Alicia Zimmermann was another thing that would have puzzled him so long ago.

 

Bitty walked slowly back to the tree he had been standing under, as if he could put off the good-bye he dreaded the most. Before he could even take a breath to prepare himself he heard: “You're still hanging around? Or didn't we post enough _selfies?_ ”

 

Even on his graduation day, Jack couldn't seem to resist chirping Bitty. It put a smile on his face.

 

“Oh!” he said. “Jack! Uh, well Lardo's off to lunch with the Knights, and Holster already packed up his car for the trip up with Rans, I guess I was hanging out because, well, I—I've—“

 

If Jack noticed how Bitty fumbled with his words he didn't show it. He just smiled and said, “You're heading out soon, aren't you?”

 

“Oh, I was just about to go back to the Haus before my airport shuttle leaves—but y'all look ready to go?”

 

Jack looked for all the world like it was any other day. Some seniors had started crying, Shitty had been unusually quiet, others had been bouncing up and down campus—but Jack looked unfazed.

 

“My mom has a small alum thing first, yeah. Then my parents and George made reservations, and then right down to Providence.”

 

“Oh well,” Bitty said. He could feel the tightness in his throat coming back. “I guess that's it, isn't it?”

 

Bitty leaned in for a hug, his arms going around Jack's shoulders. Jack stooped down a little to wrap his arms around Bitty's back. Voice small and muffled from where his face was pressed into the hard line of Jack's shoulder Bitty said, “Bye, Jack.”

 

“Bye, Bittle. It's been great playing with you.”

 

They pulled apart but didn't move far. Jack's arms still hovered at Bitty's sides and Bitty's hands tugged at Jack's tie.

 

“Jack, I—I guess the next time I'll see you will be on the TV, huh!”

 

Without looking up Bitty could tell Jack was wearing his confused puppy dog face. His accent was always thicker when he was confused. “What? Bittle, I'll drive up before the season starts.”

 

“Oh, of course!” Bitty had just crumpled Jack's tie but if he stood there to fix it he wasn't sure he'd be able to the gather the resolve to leave.

 

“Well,” he said. “You get on outta here before you make me late for my flight!”

 

“See you, Bittle.”

 

Bitty ducked his head and walked faster, just barely avoiding bumping into anyone on his way back to the Haus. If he stopped to think about how the Haus would be empty for the first time that he could remember he might fully break down in the middle of the quad so he turned his attention to his phone. There were a few texts in both team chats. Brisk congratulations and well wishes from some of the guys on the team that Bitty wasn't overly familiar with, and an early documentation of Ransom and Holster's road trip in the chat that belonged only to the members of the group who were really close.

 

By the time Bitty made it into the Haus he thought he'd be fine but boxes full of the Chowder and Lardo's' belongings littered the hall, making it clearer than day that Shitty and Jack were really gone. The tears came back full force, but Bitty simply changed into jeans and a hoodie and grabbed his headphones. If he just _had_ to cry he might as well be productive while doing it.

 

He headed into Jack's— _Chowder's—_ room. That child had put off unpacking to hang out with some friends and Bitty really couldn't sit still knowing that Chowder's clothes had been dumped unfolded into a box.

 

The first playlist on Bitty's phone wasn't labeled “Songs For Jack” but it might as well have been. Every song had a line or two that sent Bitty into another fit. He wiped his eyes and set to work on folding Chowder's clothes and stacking them neatly. He sang along to the music, hoping the familiar words would ground him. Every few words he sniffled or hiccuped, which only made him cry harder.

 

_Lord._

 

“Bittle.”

 

Bitty's head snapped up.

 

“Hello!” His voice was unnecessarily loud in the empty room. Jack stood in front of him with sweat dripping down his temples. _“_ Jack? Oh my goodness _—_ why are—is everything all right? You're outta breath, you could have texted—“

 

Bitty babbled and hoped Jack wouldn't notice the tears on his face.

 

“Bitty.”

 

Jack never called him Bitty, not once in two years. Bitty tried to figure out what was going on when Jack's hands came to rest on his shoulders. He watched dazedly as Jack closed his eyes, as he bent down and kissed him. When Jack made no attempt to move Bitty closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose as he kissed back.

 

Even with Jack bending down Bitty still had to crane his neck at an uncomfortable angle to make up for the height difference between them. One of Jack's hands splayed wide against Bitty's lower back, the other came to rest almost hesitantly on the side of his neck—thumb brushing his jaw.

 

The kiss was better than anything Bitty could have imagined—and he _had_ imagined it—it was soft, the barest hint of pressure and Jack's hand on his neck keeping him in place. Jack pulled away, his breath still ghosting across Bitty's cheekbones.

 

Bitty wanted to ask so many questions, to laugh, to start over and have Jack use his _words_ , but he had already leaned in again and Bitty threw the concept of words out the window when Jack opened his mouth ever so slightly—tilting his head and breathing into the kiss like he was finally content.

 

Bitty registered a faint buzzing but Jack just kept kissing him. The buzzing continued and Jack pulled away again, a crease between his eyebrows. “That's uh, that's my phone. I should...” He sounded breathless and distracted and Bitty wanted nothing more than to pull him back in.

 

“I gotta go,” Jack said as he frowned down at his phone. “I gotta go, but I'll text you, okay?”

 

Bitty had nothing to say to that but, “Okay.” He could hardly think in words that weren't _Jack_ or _kiss_ or _woah._ Jack held onto his hands and looked at Bitty with a face so open and so soft as he leaned in for one last hurried kiss.

 

Jack walked out of the room backwards, his eyes never leaving Bitty. “I'll text you,” he promised.

 

“Okay.”

 

They both look their fill before Jack disappeared into the hall. Tempted, Bitty considered watching him leave from the stairs but his legs gave out without his permission and he thanked God that there was a chair to catch his fall.

 

Not a minute passed before Bitty's phone buzzed with an incoming text message. His heart leaped and his lips curled into a smile when he saw Jack's name on his lock screen. That boy never had much patience or tact. Bitty had to wipe his hands on his jeans before he could open the text. He hoped Jack didn't notice his hands sweating.

 

_[Jack] I'm sorry I don't have time to explain in person_

 

_[Jack] I couldn't leave without doing that_

 

_[Jack] Without kissing you_

 

As usual, Jack thought in actions. Words were an afterthought. Certain that his face was at least three different shades of red Bitty had to type out and delete several different responses before settling on: _I'm glad you didn't_

 

After a moment he adds: _I have to ask, though. What does this mean? For us?_

 

The fact that he and Jack were an _us_ is enough to get Bitty's hands sweating again. His shuttle arrived before Jack could reply and he had to rush to grab his bag and get down the stairs before it left without him. He picked the most isolated seat and pulled his phone back out.

 

_[Jack] I don't know_

 

_[Jack] I like you and I'm hoping that you like me, too_

 

_[Jack] It's whatever you want it to be, I guess_

 

Bitty chewed on his bottom lip, his thumb hovering over send. Closing his eyes, he hit the button and locked his phone.

 

_And if I want this to be a relationship?_

 

Jack's reply was instantaneous.

 

_[Jack] I'd tell you that's what I want too_

 

_[Jack] I do want that_

 

_[Jack] There's a lot to take into consideration. I'm in the NHL and as selfish as it sounds, I'm in no position to come out immediately. I'll live an hour away in Providence._

 

_[Jack] I want to try though_

 

_[Jack] If that's what you want_

 

The shuttle jerked to a stop and more passengers climbed in. Bitty read the texts under his breath and pinched himself. He turned his phone off and back on to make sure they were still there. That the conversation was actually happening. That Jack had _actually_ sent that.

 

_It is :) I know it will take a little bit of work but I want that too_

 

_[Jack] Good_

 

_[Jack] I have to go_

 

_[Jack] I've been so invested in my phone I finally know what it's like to be you_

 

Bitty laughed and earned himself a few looks from the other passengers.

 

_And here I was foolishly hoping that being your boyfriend meant less chirping :P_

 

_[Jack] Haha. I like that_

 

_[Jack] Boyfriend_

 

_Get used to it mister_

_Go spend time with your family, I'll text you from Atlanta_

 

_[Jack] :)_

 

Flustered, Bitty backed out of the texts and opened Twitter. Jack had kissed him. Jack wanted to be in a relationship with him. Jack _used an emoji._ Everything happened so fast that it wiped out any lingering graduation sadness out of Bitty's mind. He settled back into his seat and grinned, replaying the last hour in his head.

 

-

 

 **Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

This boy.

 

-

 

Bitty and Jack first talk on the phone that night. Bitty holed up his childhood bedroom, his legs swinging above him as he laid on his bed. He had a quiet evening with his parents, the fuss of the summer not having kicked in. He told Jack as much, heart thumping erratically in his chest.

 

Jack laughed. _“My parents just left half an hour ago,”_ he said.

 

“What's your schedule look like?” Bitty asked.

 

“ _Mostly meetings. I've already met some of the guys. There's optional ice time until the rest of the team gets back from vacation.”_

 

“We both know that to you there's no such thing as _optional_ ice time.”

 

“ _I want to prove that I'm more than my last name. That I have a right to be here.”_

 

“I know, sweetheart,” Bitty said before he could think better of it. “You are and you do. You and those boys will be wrapped around each other before the summer is over, just you watch.”

 

There's a moment of silence and if it were anyone other than Jack, Bitty would think the call had disconnected.

 

“ _Thanks,”_ Jack said.

 

-

 

Providence was quiet. Quaint. The apartment Jack had settled on was a decent size yet still far too big for just one person. Two bedrooms, two baths. The extra space led to several pictures on the group chat titled: _for when you guys visit._ The guys had loved it and instantly began making plans, unknowingly quieting the rather persistent thought that he'd lose all his friends once he moved.

 

That was three days ago and the thought was back. The guest bedroom didn't have furniture, none of the windows remained without curtains, and the only dishes in the house were a rice cooker, a skillet, and a handful of utensils.

 

Jack couldn't help thinking that it wasn't home without Bittle's many pie tins, or Ransom and Holster's gaming consoles, or Lardo's easel in the corner by the floor to ceiling windows. He stared at the empty space for far too long, counting his breaths. Once he felt like moving wouldn't cause the room to start spinning he dressed down for bed; wearing a worn out Samwell shirt that had once been Shitty's and a pair of plain black briefs.

 

His bed sat on the floor. The order on the frame said that it should have arrived two days ago and Jack would have called about it if his lungs didn't always burn like fire.

 

He wiggled around on top of the sheets, finally settling onto his back with a sigh. Amazingly he wasn't sweating despite how stuffy the room seemed. It was only nine thirty but Jack's day had dragged, every second of every meeting grating on his senses. The lights had been too bright and the people had been too loud and if George and Tater hadn't grabbed him by the elbows and steered him towards the ice Jack undoubtedly wouldn't have been able to make it home before breaking down.

 

Tater was nice, almost like a watered down version of Shitty. He was loud and touchy but Jack didn't mind. It was comforting to know that someone had his back.

 

Jack's mind still raced. He counted backwards from a hundred in French and English and measured his breathing but it only helped so much.

 

Jack picked up his phone and dialed Bitty's number. He memorized and typed them in manually to give his brain something to do other than panic. Jack held out his left hand as the phone rang, barely able to make out how his fingers trembled in the low light from the window.

 

“ _Hello? Jack?”_ Bitty sounded concerned and Jack tried to picture his wide eyes and the dimple at the corner of his mouth when he frowned.

 

“Hey.” Whispering was unnecessary but Jack couldn't make himself speak any louder. On the other line he heard Bitty excuse himself. A door shut somewhere in the background.

 

“ _Jack, honey, are you okay?”_

 

Jack considered saying he was fine, that he just wanted to talk. The only people he had willingly confided in about his anxiety were Shitty and Parse, both of whom were unavailable at the moment. Relationships were built on trust, however. At least that's what Jack had heard.

 

“I—Today was—“ Jack fished for an appropriate word. Something that didn't undermine or exaggerate the severity of the situation.

 

“ _Today was what?”_

 

“Bad.”

 

“ _Oh, honey. What can I do?”_

 

“I don't—I didn't mean to take you away from anything,” Jack said. His heart soared when Bitty laughed. The feeling was pleasantly different than the usual shot of anxiety. Jack clung to it like a drowning man.

 

“ _It was just dinner with my mama and a couple of her friends. They've been looking for a nice way to ditch me for the movies.”_

 

“Really?”

 

Bitty hummed. _“And that's_ after _they begged me to make a pie for this dinner. See if I ever do anything nice for them again.”_

 

Figuring it was a joke and Bitty's feelings weren't truly on the line Jack managed a laugh. He hoped Bitty wouldn't notice that it didn't come out quite right.

 

“ _Do you need to talk, Jack? I'm here if you do.”_

 

Bitty had witnessed to some of Jack's lowest moments in the past year but Jack was too wound up to talk about it properly. He turned his face into the pillow and tried to recall what Shitty had said to him the first time.

 

“Um, could you actually just talk? If you don't mind. I—I just need a distraction.”

 

“ _Of course. So you remember that New Year's party I went to back in January? Well, as it turns out one of those guys is now a counselor at the same camp as me and is being paired up with me for the first week to learn the ropes. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but he was pretty civil last time so maybe it won't end badly.”_

 

_-_

 

_[Jack] I'm sorry about last night_

 

_[Jack] I'll explain eventually_

 

_[Jack] Thank you_

 

_-_

 

Camp had always been the fun part of Bitty's summer. He spent the mornings in the kitchen and the afternoons with the campers. He got to cook and play with the kids and at the end of the night he got to ride the bus for an hour. Most of the counselors stayed overnight with the older kids, but Bitty had never volunteered unless they were short a counselor.

 

The bus ride wouldn't take so long if the bus driver would take the freeway, but the long commute had stopped bothering Bitty back in high school. Now he sat in the back of the bus with the window down and his music on quietly.

 

The new counselor—Dalton—sat across the aisle. Having him follow Bitty around hadn't been bad at all. The kids liked him and he hadn't even tried to be antagonizing. It was a surprising turn of events. Even more so was the fact that he sat on the edge of his seat with his feet in the middle of the walkway, attempting to rope Bitty into conversation.

 

“So, uh, how're things going up in Massachusetts? Heard from your daddy that you're playing hockey up there.”

 

Bitty nodded. “Yeah, things are great. I'm majoring in American Studies.”

 

“And uh, the boys on the team treating you okay?”

 

“Now what is _that_ supposed to mean?” Bitty asked.

 

“Well. I know me and the guys we weren't too, uh, kind to you back when. I wanted to make sure it's not the same up there.”

 

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Bitty's voice was cold and it only pleased him a little when Dalton flinched.

 

“Eric. I know it's awful late and action speak louder than words and all that, but I'm sorry. I came all the way back down here from Cali because you deserved an apology.”

 

Bitty might have thought it funny that a six-foot-three football player could look so small if it wasn't mildly pitiful. He just raised his eyebrow.

 

For a minute Dalton looked like he was going to turn around but he said, “You remember Tommy?”

 

Now Dalton _truly_ looked pitiful. He hung his head and his hands were trapped between his shaking knees.

 

“Big guy,” Bitty said, his voice dropping to a whisper without his consent. “Couple years younger than us, black hair, blue eyes. Dressed like he was in a rock band?”

 

“That's the one. His parents they uh, they sent him to one of them camps. He came back all different kinds of messed up. He wouldn't eat or talk much. He just sat out on the railroad tracks with a bottle of vodka all the time.”

 

Bitty didn't like where the story was headed but he leaned in anyway. Dalton's voice cracked.

 

“Our parents were friends, they wanted me to keep an eye on him. He graduated last month. Packed all his things in my old beater and we drove out to California. He's like a little brother to me nowadays, and it breaks my heart to see him the way he is. The way he came back. Little by little he's getting better, though. He's going to UCLA in the fall.”

 

“I just, I couldn't live with myself knowing I was the kind of person who could condone that. I don't say this hoping you'll forgive me. Hell, I hope you hate me 'till the day you die. I just wanted to apologize. And to say that I'm glad it got better for you.”

 

Stunned into silence all Bitty could do was stare at the guy in front of him. Dalton had seemingly done a complete one-eighty.

 

“I—I appreciate that.”

 

Dalton's smile was a sad thing, a tick at the corner of his mouth.

 

“I'm glad Tommy has you,” Bitty said. “If you seriously changed, then I'm glad he's got someone who cares about him.”

 

Dalton nodded. “He could do a whole lot better, but I'm trying.”

 

The bus stopped then. Bitty and Dalton were the only ones left so they filed out together and waved good-bye as the walked to opposite ends of the street. Bitty's head was still reeling when opened the kitchen door and dropped his bag onto the kitchen table.

 

“Oh, Dicky,” his mama said. “You look like those kids put you through the wringer.”

 

Bitty sighed, pulling his dinner out of the microwave. He ate it cold, not having enough patience to wait the couple extra minutes it would take to heat it up after the night he'd had.

 

“I just didn't realize how stressful camp was,” Bitty said. It was the partial truth, he had been on his feet all day and despite not having practice he'd played three rounds of capture the flag with energetic ten-year olds. If she asked about Dalton he'd have to think of something creative to say without lying. His mama could always tell when he was lying.

 

“How was your day?” he asked genuinely. If he took advantage of talking about her day, well, he'd only feel a little guilty in the morning.

 

“Oh it was just fine,” she said. Her eyes kept flicking back and forth between her son and the laptop in front of her. “I talked to Jack today.”

 

If mashed potatoes and pork chops could come out of Bitty's nose they would have. Instead he coughed up a piece of meat the lodged into his throat.

 

“Why? How? More importantly, why?”

 

Suzanne smiled brightly. “Well I borrowed your computer—like you said I could, don't look at me like that—to look up that recipe for lemon bars you had saved. He called you up on Skype and I answered.”

 

“ _Why?”_

 

“Well it's not like you have an answering machine on this thing and I just wanted to check up, see how he was doing all alone in Providence.”

 

Bitty looked between his mother and the laptop in horror before mouthing, _“Are you still talking to him?”_

 

His mama nodded, her smile never wavering. Bitty shooed her out of the chair and sat down. Sure enough Jack's face was open in the Skype window. He was leaning on his elbows, chin in his hands. He might have had a shot at looking completely innocent if he hadn't opened his mouth.

 

“Hey, _Dicky._ ”

 

Bitty scrubbed his face with his hands and groaned. His mama winked from her spot by the counter before leaving them in peace.

 

“I'd apologize for my mother's actions, but you two seemed to be enjoying yourselves.”

 

Jack smiled sweetly. “She only invited me down for Independence Day four times.”

 

Bitty groaned again.

 

“Do you not want me to come?” Jack asked. He didn't sound or look offended, just curious, but having Jack think for even a second that he wasn't welcome in Bitty's home was not in the cards.

 

“No! I mean, of course I want you to come. She asked me to invite you the first day I got here but I know with your schedule you're going to be real busy. And I _would_ have asked you. Eventually. She didn't need to go answering my Skype calls and—“

 

“Bittle. Bitty. I cleared with the coaches and George and everything. If you want me to come down I can.”

 

Bitty hoped his blush didn't show through the camera. “I haven't seen you since graduation, of course I want you to visit.”

 

“Good, because I already bought my plane ticket.”

 

“Why on earth would you do that?”

 

“Your mother was quite persistent.”

 

Bitty huffed. “Sounds like her.”

 

“Do your parents know?” Jack asked, promptly popping Bitty's bubble of happiness and infatuation.

 

“No. Well, I don't know. My mom seems like she knows something. Coach is either oblivious, or knows and is in firm denial.”

 

Jack smiled softly. “You don't have to tell them any time soon. I actually want to limit the amount of people who know until I can come out publicly. It's going to be a little complicated for a while.”

 

“I know. I ain't going nowhere.”

 

“You _ain't_ , eh?”

 

“That smirk is significantly less attractive when I can't kiss it off you.”

 

Jack ducked his head, the tips of his ears burning red. “Before the conversation gets entirely derailed, I'd like to tell my parents if that's okay with you.”

 

“Why wouldn't it be? They're your parents.”

 

“Yes, but they talk to your mother on a regular basis. I can tell them to keep it to themselves, but I kind of promised not to keep secrets from them after—after.”

 

Bitty didn't need to be well versed in Jack's mannerisms to tell that he didn't want to talk about _after_ , but it helped to take note of the tightening in his shoulders and the way his voice clipped off, suddenly detached.

 

“Of course, honey,” Bitty said. “As long as your parents like me I don't see how that would be a problem.”

 

“They adore you, Bits.”

 

Every time Jack called him anything other than Bittle, Bitty's heart turned over like a rusty car engine coming back to life.

 

“Well, good, then.”

 

“Yeah, good.”

 

“I'm gonna go upstairs and change for bed. Wanna keep me company?” Bitty grinned and lowered his voice teasingly.

 

Jack breathed in deeply, his eyes fluttered closed for half a moment. “If you want.”

 

They hadn't talked about this, about the physical aspect of their relationship. It made sense, they were in two entirely different states, over a thousand miles apart. There _wasn't_ a physical aspect of the relationship, no sexual component.

 

It wasn't for a lack of want or imagination, however. Bitty could no longer count on all his fingers and toes how many times Jack had starred in one of his fantasies, conscious or otherwise. Bitty couldn't help but be anxious about what Jack was or wasn't expecting. About whether or not they were on the same page.

 

He could always ask. Jack wouldn't lie to him or try to pressure him into anything, but the thought of having that conversation seemed so embarrassing and juvenile. He didn't even know how to start. _Hey so are we ever going to have sex because despite whatever the guys said about me and that one guy I'm still a virgin and you probably aren't and—_

 

Bitty set the laptop down on his desk. “Tell me about your day, honey.”

 

“It was essentially a day off. I went for my run, practiced with some of the guys. Took my camera down to the park for a couple hours.”

 

“Sounds relaxing,” Bitty said, tugging his shirt over his head. He knew he was still in the camera's—and therefore Jack's—line of sight. It wasn't a particularly sexy strip tease, if it could even be called that. Bitty simply undressed, no theatrics and only a slight hidden motive. It was only to gauge Jack's reaction.

 

“Take any interesting pictures?”

 

Jack took a moment to reply during which Bitty had unfastened his belt and dropped it to the ground.

 

“Uh—I got a couple of the sunset and this building with a lot of windows.”

 

“Windows? Is the sky reflected in them?”

 

“Yes? Oh— _mon Dieu_.” Bitty had dropped his shorts, now wearing only the barest scrap of red fabric. It was an old pair of briefs that he had mostly grown out of but with a budget like his he didn't have the funds to buy underwear every time a pair got a little tight.

 

“You say something sweetheart?” Bitty asked. He looked over his shoulder then, grabbing a random shirt off a hanger and pulling it on.

 

Jack's bedroom had gone dark on the screen, only the light from his computer illuminated his face. He dragged a palm through his hair and across his jaw. “I have the feeling you're doing that on purpose,” he said after clasping his hands in plain sight of the camera.

 

Bitty's grin was wicked. “I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Zimmermann.” He sat in the rolling chair in front of his desk. He raked his eyes over what he could see of Jack, taking pride in the flustered blush that graced his cheeks.

 

“You were saying? About the pictures?”

 

“Right. Um, there was this duckling following a dog for a while. I took a picture when they were napping.”

 

“Did you now?”

 

Jack didn't have a subtle bone in his body. His eyes fixated on Bitty's throat as he talked, eventually coming to rest on the exposed divots of his collar bone. The shirt was an old, ratty thing that hung off of one shoulder.

 

“See anything you like?” Bitty asked.

 

“The fourth can't come soon enough,” Jack said. He sighed. “I should probably go, I've got practice in the morning.”

 

Bitty hummed in agreement. “Sleep well, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

 

Jack just groaned. “You too, Bits.”

 

-

 

It had been a long time since Jack had felt sexually attracted to another person. It was essentially a new feeling, the intense swooping sensation in his gut and the raw heat in his spine. Parse had been the only person before Bittle, and it had taken a while for Jack to get there.

 

Shitty had mentioned something about demi-romantic and demi-sexuality but Jack tuned out most of the conversation after the initial description. It sounded accurate enough but Jack never had time for relationships in between Parse and Bittle. He dedicated so much of his time into being hard on himself and playing the best hockey he could.

 

But the sight of Bittle shedding his clothes without a backward glance, the tiniest pair of underwear, his bare collarbones; it all caused Jack's chest to seize up.

 

Jack fell back onto his bed—now complete with sheets, pillows, and a frame—and let his mind wander. He had showered long before his Skype session with Suzanne and he didn't want to have to take another but the sudden and intense feeling of arousal was so unexpected that waiting the situation out was hardly an option.

 

Like many others Jack had certain needs but he usually attended them with the same perfunctory precision that he taped his hockey stick with. A mundane task that could be accomplished quickly after years of repetition.

 

This was entirely different.

 

Jack trailed his hands over his skin, imagining the way Bittle would do it. He'd have the barest of callouses that couldn't have been smoothed out by a skincare regimen. He'd pay special attention to Jack's biceps and his hair. Jack let his hands roams delicately over each patch of skin, dipping underneath the edges of his old Pens t-shirt.

 

Bittle had always been a strong presence in Jack's life. He underwent countless early mornings of checking practice, endured Jack's particularly bad moments, stood unwavering at Jack's side as he had a panic attack. There was no reason he wouldn't bring that determination and strong will into the bedroom. He might straddle Jack's hips and twist his hands into Jack's hair.

 

The thought alone of Bittle pinning Jack to the bed sent a tremor through his body. Never had Jack taken his time quite like this. Before—with Parse—they were young and inexperienced and would rather go for rounds four and five than prolong the experience.

 

Something about the mere thought of Bittle made Jack want to go slower, to tease. He tugged on his hair with one hand while the other skirted down his abdomen. He pushed up the hem of his shirt slowly, relishing in the way his stomach flipped.

 

Back at the Haus it would have been impossible. He took care of himself in the shower only, taking care to bite his hand to stay quiet. He had always been quiet in the Q, too. Every moment of his life was essentially public. He let himself sigh and moan as he cupped his erection through his sweats.

 

Now that he no longer lived in fear of someone pantsing him to “commit that ass to memory, brah” or cuddling up to him in the middle of the night he took to sleeping in just his sweats or on nights that were hotter than most, nothing.

 

Hand still in his hair Jack rolled over and trapped his hand between himself and the sheets. He turned his face into the pillow, pushing into his hand. He breathed out a strangled moan as he increased his pace. He twisted his fingers in his hair, thinking of smaller and softer hands holding him in place.

 

A mantra of _honey_ and _sweetheart_ and _darling_ played on repeat, honey sticky vowels encouraging Jack to move faster, harder.

 

Jack came panting and moaning. He shivered, his sweat cooling in the small of his back. His pants were a lost cause and so were the sheets. After a day of relaxing and talking to Bittle and his mother exhaustion rolled in. He barely had enough energy to wiggle out of his clothes and wipe off the mess halfheartedly. He sighed into his pillow and curled his hand around his phone, feeling one step closer to Madison.

 

-

 

July third was ridiculously hectic. Bitty had woken up after five hours of sleep to stress bake. Perhaps excitement bake. Jack's flight would land a little before seven in the evening and then Bitty would get him for the whole weekend.

 

Bitty was torn between following a strict itinerary and winging it. Madison had a wonderful historic district which Jack would love with so many museums and centers. Any other time Bitty wouldn't hesitate to introduce Jack to it and watch his face soften as he rattled off facts and took in the new information. As it was Jack wouldn't get in until late on the third, and then he'd spend all of the fourth with the Bittles and the neighborhood, leaving Sunday and early on Monday the only free days.

 

Bitty already had plans for the fireworks, however. He had bribed his way through his plans with baked goods and sincerity. Coach Jackson—Bitty's high school hockey coach—had gone on a cruise and needed someone to look after his house. It hadn't taken much persuasion on Bitty's part for him to hand over the keys.

 

The thought of Bitty and Jack actually having some time alone was as intimidating as it was exhilarating. They'd have the privacy to do whatever they wanted without the fear of someone seeing. Bitty didn't expect anything specific out of the visit. Kisses and cuddles, if anything.

 

Bitty had started on dessert early. Pie crusts chilled in the refrigerator next to the jell-o, cupcake icing had been mixed and sorted into tupperware. He worked on cookie dough last, working cranberries and pecans and oats into the mix. Parents would be glad to give the kids something healthier than chocolate chip, but Bitty could admit to himself that they were made with Jack in mind. A healthy enough spin on cookies to keep his nutritionist from blowing steam out of her ears, but tasty enough to still be considered a treat.

 

By the time the cookie dough was ready to be chilled Bitty had already started pulling pancake mix out for breakfast.

 

His mama came in with a smile and a robe. She poured out the pot of coffee Bitty had let burn absentmindedly and began a new one. Like her son, Suzanne could barely string three words together before she had her coffee. Bitty had inherited his hot mess genes from her, clear as day.

 

Bitty worked silently. He and his mother had struck up a system over the years. They didn't need to be talkative and cheery towards each other until coffee and food had been made. Bitty tore apart a pancake as he cooked, the final one being finished as his father came in, fully dressed and ready to go,

 

“Going somewhere, Coach?” Bitty asked.

 

“Just running to the store. You coming?”

 

“Yeah let me go change,” Bitty said. “Eat a pancake or two in the meantime.”

 

Bitty changed into a light blue tank top and a pair of shorts before throwing on his sneakers. He pulled his phone off the charger. The home screen lit up with a couple text messages and Twitter notifications. Chowder said good morning like he did every day, bless his heart.

 

Bitty opened the messages from Jack with a smile on his face.

 

_[Jack] Just talked to my father. He promised not to tell your parents but he says he insists on taking us out when we're all in town next_

 

_[Jack] I think he knew before I did, if I'm being honest_

 

_[Jack] Do I need anything specific?_

 

Bob had already DMed Bitty on Twitter. The first message had been a series of emojis and exclamation points but the last one had sounded heartfelt. _Alicia and I are so happy for you kids. Our lips are sealed, too. Give your mother our love._

 

Bitty sent him a list of emojis and a thank you before replying to Jack.

 

_You dad messaged me right before you. I think it's safe to assume he's excited._

 

_Clothes you don't mind getting sweaty or dirty, shorts/short sleeves/tank tops/swim trunks if you have them :)_

 

_[Jack] Swim trunks?_

 

_You could always skinny dip ;)_

 

_[Jack] Haha_

 

Coach nodded as Bitty came back. He wiped syrup from his mustache and bent down to kiss Suzanne on the cheek. Bitty did the same.

 

Mama Bittle waved lazily. “Bye, boys.”

 

Bitty climbed into the truck and fastened his seat belt. He rolled the window down before they pulled out of the driveway. The air conditioner had been busted up for a while.

 

“When does Jack get in again?” Coach asked. The radio played an old country station that Suzanne loved.

 

“His flight gets in just before seven, so I need to leave for the airport at five-thirty.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Coach didn't talk after that. He and Bitty had gone through their rounds of “how is hockey” and “what do you think of the football team this year” at the beginning of the summer. It was nice, not needing to fill the silence. It was also nerve wracking because Bitty second guessed every conversation he'd had with his father over the years.

 

By “store” Coach had apparently meant hardware store. “What are we here for?”

 

“Your mama needs fertilizer for the flower beds.”

 

The drive home was more animated. They talked about a story on the radio talk show and gossiped about Mrs White who had recently bought a pedigree poodle.

 

Bitty spent the afternoon in planting flowers in the sun. His sunscreen had sweated off and he hadn't been bothered to reapply so his skin was tinged pink at his shoulders and cheeks. Mrs White and her poodle had come for a visit and she glowered when Bitty petted her with dirt under his nails.

 

Mama Bittle brought a pitcher of lemonade out and talked on the porch. When Mrs White left she got down in the dirt with her son, staining the knees of her jeans without a care. Together they transplanted lavender by the mailbox and in the flowerbeds lining the walkway.

 

“Dicky, love, isn't it time for you to head out?”

 

Bitty checked his phone. 5:29. With the busywork keeping him occupied all anxiety about Jack visiting had dissipated. He had wanted to look nice but if he wanted to make it to Atlanta in time he couldn't afford to shower and change. He grabbed the truck keys from the dish just inside the door and ran up the stairs to find a pair of sunglasses and his wallet.

 

-

 

Despite having traveled often as a child, airports had always instilled a sense of anxiety in Jack. There was the chance he'd get recognized and cornered, or that his flight would be canceled, or that he'd make a fool of himself. He focused so hard on putting one foot in front of the other that he nearly ran into a snack kiosk.

 

Bittle had sent him a text ten minutes ago saying he'd be waiting in arrivals and Jack clutched his phone like letting go of it would make everything go away.

 

Jack considered calling when he didn't immediately spot Bittle but the crowd thinned out and there he was. Bittle sat on a bench looking for all the world like summer embodied in a single person. Sunglasses pushed his hair back from his forehead and his shorts rode high on his thighs.

 

Bitty was the first to move, standing and waving while Jack stood there like a deer in the headlights.

 

“I'd hug you,” Bittle said in lieu of a greeting, “But I was working in the yard and didn't get to—“

 

Jack hugged him with one arm, pressing Bitty's face into his shoulder. He smelled like dirt and sweat and dog but it could have been the sweetest cologne for all Jack cared. Bitty laughed and hugged Jack back, standing on his toes to wrap his arms around him.

 

“Well, it's good to see you too, Mr Zimmermann.”

 

Jack pulled away and cleared his throat. He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I uh, sorry.”

 

Bitty just grinned and winked. “Give me your bag and let's get the heck out of here.”

 

When Jack hesitated to release his bag Bittle simply slid it off his shoulder and draped it over his own. He walked away, looking backwards over his shoulder. He had slid his sunglasses down his nose, tongue between his teeth.

 

Jack found himself smiling as he trailed after Bittle. When he caught up they walked side by side, their arms brushing with every step. Jack didn't know whether to blame the heat in his cheeks on the drastic temperature or the way Bittle's hair looked in the setting sunlight.

 

They came to a stop in front of a red, well loved truck. Bittle reached over the side to deposit Jack's duffel in the bed of the truck before rounding the front and climbing into the driver's seat. Jack sidled in next to him. The bench seat was warm from the sun.

 

Neither of them buckled their seat belts. They turned to face each other, speaking over each other.

 

“Sorry,” Jack said with a smile. “You go first.”

 

Bittle blushed behind what appeared to be a light sunburn. He pulled his sunglasses off his face and leaning into the middle seat. “I was just going to say, I parked all the way out here hoping I'd get a kiss before we have to have dinner with my parents.”

 

Jack gave the parking lot a quick once-over. There were no other cars this far out but Jack didn't think he'd care if they were, not when Bittle was grinning with one side of his mouth. Jack closed the distance between them, touching the tips of his fingers to the side of Bittle's neck and he pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.

 

Bittle smiled into the kiss and Jack couldn't help but smile too. Bittle pulled away first. Jack didn't care that he had dirt on his knees and the hair at the nape of his neck was slick with sweat; Bittle was easily to most beautiful person in the world. When he giggled he covered his mouth with one of his hands and his eyes narrowed.

 

“Well, as much as I'd like to do that for three days straight we really should get going.”

 

The drive to Madison wasn't as long as Jack had expected. The light traffic and Bittle's company made the time pass abnormally fast. The windows were rolled down and the radio played the Pop Top 40 and Bittle sang along at the top of his lungs in between pointing out landmarks from his childhood and asking about Jack's day so far.

 

At some point during the drive Jack and migrated back into the middle seat. He curled his hand around Bittle's knee and tapped his fingers along to the music. Bittle didn't seem to mind. He had even played with Jack's fingers when the turns in the road smoothed out.

 

Too soon the truck pulled into the driveway. The Bittle house was quaint, the kind of white picket dream every country singer wrote about. There was an American flag mounted above the front porch, lavender planted out front, a pristine coat of paint on everything. Only the screen door was shut and a porch swing stood in the corner.

 

“Ready?” Bittle asked.

 

Jack nodded and they climbed out of the truck, Jack scooting over to his own door. Bittle grabbed Jack's bag but Jack snatched it back from his loose grip with a teasing smile.

 

“I'm a gentleman, Mr Zimmermann. What _ever_ would the townsfolk say of me if I didn't carry your bag inside?” Bittle exaggerated his drawl and it did things to Jack's stomach.

 

“ _I'm_ the one who has to make a good impression,” Jack said. “If they don't like me as your friend they won't like me as your boyfriend.”

 

Bittle knocked his hip into Jack's, no longer fazed by the fact that Jack was sturdy as a rock. “Mama loves you already. With Coach all you gotta do is talk about sports.”

 

Bittle pushed open the door and walked in first. Jack followed, standing dumbly behind Bittle like he could hide behind him. The inside of the house was every bit as cozy as the outside. Pictures and paintings and awards were tacked up on every wall. Soft music played in the kitchen.

 

“Mama,” Bittle called out. “We're home.”

 

Suddenly Jack wasn't able to go five minutes without his heart trying to beat out of his chest when Bittle talked. Words like “we” and “home” were perfectly innocuous until they applied to the two of them.

 

Suzanne Bittle was a slight woman but she was every bit a hurricane as her son. She gave Jack an enthusiastic hug before turning to Bittle.

 

“Dicky, sweetheart, go get cleaned up.”

 

“First let me get a picture of you two.”

 

“For Twitter?” Suzanne asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Send it to my parents so they know I got here safely,” Jack said.

 

Picture taken, Suzanne shooed the boys away to the bedroom.

 

“Under normal circumstances you'd get the whole guest bedroom to yourself,” Bittle said once the door shut behind them. “However, my Moomaw is coming tomorrow and staying through the week. So I hope you don't mind sharing.”

 

“I don't mind at all,” Jack said. He sat in the desk chair.

 

Bittle toed off his shoes and socks while looking through his closet. He pulled out a pair of khaki shorts of a reasonable length and a blue short-sleeved button up that matched his tank top.

 

“I didn't figure you would. Now I'm gonna shower. Feel free to roam or stay put as you see fit.”

 

Jack toured around Bittle's room. There were a few awards and trophies on display on one level of a bookshelf. The next shelf down had biographies; including _Sidney Crosby: Taking the Game by Storm._ Jack smiled to himself as he put the book back where it belonged. Bittle's laptop was on his desk and his bed was made. A Beyonce poster had been taped to the ceiling. Jack wondered what Bittle's parents thought of that.

 

Jack didn't wander for long before settling in the kitchen. Suzanne leaned against the counter with an oven mitt in one hand and a beer in the other. She smiled when she noticed Jack in the doorway.

 

“Is there anything you'd like me to help with, Suzanne?” he asked.

 

“You're a guest, dear. But,” she paused, likely for dramatic effect. Even if Jack didn't already know, it was obvious that she and her son were close. “If you're offering you can help me set the table. Richard should be in any minute, he just stopped up the street to see Mrs White home. She just bought a poodle, you know. With papers and everything.”

 

“Really?” Jack asked because it seemed appropriate. He had no idea who Mrs White was or why it was such a big deal that she got a dog, but conversation with Suzanne was much like that with Bitty. They liked to talk and he liked to listen.

 

“Really.” She piled plates and silverware and glasses on the counter.

 

Jack set the table and placed the pitcher of tea Suzanne had given him on the middle of the table. From there he could see Richard Bittle kick dirt from his shoes on the front porch. He turned back to help Suzanne pile food onto the table.

 

Mr Bittle wasn't the most intimidating man Jack had ever met but the way he eyed Jack up and down before sticking his hand out left him a little self-conscious. “You must be the Zimmermann boy,” he said.

 

Jack maneuvered the bowl of potatoes to one arm to shake his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Bittle.”

 

He grunted and took the potatoes, kissing Suzanne hello as she passed.

 

Bittle reappeared then, hair dry and smelling like coconut shampoo. He grinned at Jack who had moved out of range once Bittle's father had entered. “They put you to work yet?” he asked.

 

“Wouldn't have had to if you didn't leave the boy to the wolves,” Mr Bittle said. Jack wasn't sure he liked where the conversation was going but Bitty threw his head back and laughed.

 

“Unless you wanted your appetite spoiled by me smelling like Mrs White's poodle...”

 

A flicker of a smile twitched beneath Mr Bittle's mustache. “I don't think she thought it through, son.”

 

Suzanne and Bitty both laughed and Jack watched the exchange with what he hoped was polite interest. What this family had against a poor poodle was beyond him but he had a good impression to make so he didn't voice his concerns.

 

Jack sat beside Bitty and across from Suzanne. The food looked good, he said as much. Oven roasted potatoes and lemon marinated chicken and creamy collard greens.

 

“Usually we go a little heavier than this but with you being a professional athlete we wanted to accommodate you as much as possible.”

 

“Thank you, Suzanne. I appreciate it. Bit—uh, Eric alone is enough to give my nutritionist a heart attack.”

 

“Well _someone_ has to feed you boys,” Bitty said. He tilted his head to give Jack a private smile.

 

-

 

Bitty pushed his bedroom door open, giddy at the sight of Jack propped up in his bed with a book. Jack promptly set down the book when he turned out the light. Bitty fumbled his way to the edge of the bed, slipping under the sheets.

 

“Hey,” Jack whispered. He turned onto his side, all casual and warm and real. He looked so at ease that it warmed Bitty's heart.

 

“Hey,” he said. Bitty brushed Jack's bangs away from his face with a forefinger. “I'm really glad you're here, Jack.”

 

Jack caught Bitty's hand as he pulled away. He kissed Bitty's fingertips and his knuckles and the delicate veins on his inner wrist. It was such a put together move that Bitty couldn't think.

 

“There's nowhere I'd rather be.”

 

Bitty curled into Jack's chest. With the door locked for the night there was no chance of being caught cuddling. Hopefully neither his mama nor Coach would question the locked door. Bitty sighed. “That's just because you haven't seen what I planned for tomorrow night.”

 

“I thought we were spending the day here with your family,” Jack said. He didn't need to press his lips to the sensitive patch of skin below Bitty's ear and he didn't need to trail his fingers just barely under the hem of Bitty's shirt, but he did and it worked a little too well.

 

Bitty twined both of his legs around one of Jack's.

 

“If you think I'm going to let my family take up all of my time with you then you're mistaken.”

 

Jack hummed. “Should I be worried?”

 

“Not unless you're scared of water or fireworks or tiny, blond, Southern boys.”

 

They were pressed together from head to toe.

 

“I think we're in the clear.”

 

-

 

Bitty set an alarm for five and fumbled around in the dark to turn it off. He smacked at his pillows until one of them groaned and grabbed his hand.

 

“If this is what you had planned for me today, no thank you.” Jack's words were mumbled and hot where they were pressed against Bitty's rib cage. His accent was thicker and his vowels slurred together.

 

The bed had not been made with a professional hockey player in mind. Sometime during the night Jack slid down the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around whatever part of Bitty he could reach.

 

“Baby, I gotta get up.”

 

“Baby?”

 

Bitty winced. The words had just come out and if he wanted he could blame it on being half awake. “Too much?” he asked.

 

“No,” Jack said. His words slurred together like he was drunk. “I like it. I like it when you call me things.”

 

Bitty kissed Jack slowly to soften the blow of him leaving.

 

“You need to brush your teeth,” Jack said.

 

“You need to go back to sleep, darling.”

 

“Hrmph.”

 

Bitty changed into swim trunks and a t-shirt before heading to the kitchen. The house was dark and quiet so Bitty stuck his headphones in his ears and got to work. He promised his mama that she'd get to sleep in this year, meaning Bitty was left to do early morning preparations. Starting with a pot of coffee.

 

The whole neighborhood stopped in at some point or another during the Fourth of July so there was a lot of work to get done. The morning passed in a caffeinated blur. Peppers had been gutted and hamburger meat mixed and fruit salad tossed. By the time the rest of the house woke up Bitty had prepared nearly everything.

 

Jack looked put together when he came into the kitchen in a tank top and khaki shorts. If sleep deprivation didn't kill Bitty the sight of Jack comfortable and happy in his kitchen might. Jack leaned in for a short kiss before dropping into the chair beside Bitty.

 

“You're getting awful mighty confident that my parents won't walk in at any time.”

 

Jack cleared his throat. “They're, uh, kind of preoccupied,” he said.

 

“Preoccupied? What do you—Oh my gosh.”

 

Bitty dug his knuckles into his eyes sockets. Logically it _must_ have happened at least once in the past, but while Jack was in the house? “At least someone is having fun.”

 

“You could have woken me up.”

 

“You get up everyday to run and practice all day. Sleep in when you can and don't complain.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Bitty had shut off the coffee pot already, but he had also heated water for tea. Bitty set a mug in front of Jack.

 

“Tea?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

 

Bitty shrugged. “Coffee is supposedly an anxiety irritant but black tea should have enough caffeine to get you going.”

 

“That's—you—Thanks.” Jack smiled warmly into his cup before pushing it back to Bitty. “That's considerate.”

 

“I've been thinking about how to bring it up without sounding like I spent all night online after you told me.” Bitty brushed his hair away from his face. “Besides, there's going to be a lot of people here today so I figured it was as good a precaution as any.”

 

Jack had told Bitty all of the details about his anxiety during a phone call weeks ago. He told Bitty about everything that caused his anxiety to get worse, what helped calm him down. That he couldn't stand loud noises or physical contact from someone he didn't know off the ice.

 

So after the call ended Bitty had been up until three in the morning looking up everything he could. Tea seemed to be the most unobtrusive way of helping.

 

Bitty and Jack passed the tea back and forth until it was gone in silence. They kicked at each other's ankles and let their fingers brush when they reached for the tea. Coach and Mama Bittle walked in not too much later.

 

“Morning,” Bitty said. “Y'all been up long?”

 

Jack snorted into his tea.

 

Coach grumbled but Mama just smiled.

 

About noon the guests started showing up. One of the pros of getting up early for preparation was that Bitty wasn't required to help his mother in the kitchen while she made the rest of the meal, so he pulled Jack out into the yard to socialize.

 

Bitty kept an eye on Jack as they talked to neighbors and family friends. There was a hint of awkwardness but no true anxiety. He talked about football and hockey but lost track of the conversation when it turned to NASCAR.

 

“You hear about Dale Jr?” Uncle Louis asked. He was already on his fourth beer. “A damn shame.”

 

Jack raised his eyebrows at Bitty who then steered the conversation. “It is. And putting Gordon in his car? That's a kick to the teeth if I've ever seen one.”

 

Uncle Louis sneered. “Pardon my French, but _fuck_ Gordon.”

 

Bitty raised his cup of lemonade in agreement before towing Jack to a less intoxicated and enraged family member.

 

“Who is Dale Jr?”

 

“Oh, honey. Bless your heart. I'll explain the intricacies of NASCAR Sundays later. Just do me a favor and don't ask that question to anyone else.”

 

“Uncle Louis seemed personally offended.”

 

“Everyone down here takes their Earnhardts personally.”

 

“Earnhardts?”

 

“ _Honey._ ”

 

Jack mimed locking his lips and they came to the table where Rosaline—a girl from Bitty's senior class—tried to feed a fussy baby.

 

“Rose, so nice to see you again. And little baby Emma. Hello, sweetie.”

 

Emma turned in her mother's lap to get a better view of Bitty. She had unshed tears in her eyes but blinked them away when she caught sight of Jack.

 

“You, too. This must be Jack.” She smiled. “I'm Rose, the greatest person in Eric's life.”

 

Bitty laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “So, where's the baby-daddy?”

 

“You keep your opinions to yourself, Eric Richard. I can and I will do this on my own.” Rosaline had always been a stubborn girl. It must have been why Bitty liked her so much. She held her head high and squared her shoulders like nothing could touch her.

 

“I have no doubts about that! I'd just like to have a few words with that no good—“

 

“And get yourself locked in another closet overnight? Thanks for the sentiment, but I'm not sure what good it would do.”

 

Bitty didn't need the reminder. “All right. You let me know if you need anything though.”

 

“Actually, I've needed to use the bathroom for an hour now. Could you hold Emma?”

 

Children have historically proved themselves to hate Bitty. It mostly only happened when they got old enough to talk back, but it left him uneasy.

 

Luckily Jack spoke up. “I could do it.”

 

Rosaline eyed Jack up and down once before handing off the baby. Rose wouldn't have let just anyone hold her baby so she must have seen something special in Jack during that short encounter.

 

Jack took Rosaline's seat and resumed the feeding process. Emma's face and hands were a mess of green and she immediately spread the mess to Jack. He introduced himself like Emma could understand him.

 

“Hi, I'm Jack. I play hockey.” No baby voice, no anything.

 

Emma smiled, mashed peas spilling out of her mouth. Jack didn't seem to mind, he just scraped the food off her chin with the spoon and tried again.

 

“Peas are good for you. I think.” Emma cooed but no food came back up so Bitty considered it a win in Jack's favor.

 

Bitty sat in the chair beside Jack, turning it around so he could rest his chin on the back and watch Jack and Emma. He was so gentle with her, talking like she could understand him and wiping spit and peas from her cheeks with his thumbs. He looked completely at ease with a baby in his lap.

 

By the time Rosaline returned all of the peas had either been eaten or smeared on Jack's cheek.

 

“Well I'll be,” she said. “Are you sure you wanna play hockey, Jack? You could be a professional nanny.”

 

Jack laughed which made Emma laugh and pat his cheeks. It was all unfairly cute in Bitty's opinion.

 

“Maybe once I retire,” Jack said. He passed the baby back to her mother and stood to let her have the chair back.

 

They talked with Rosaline for a while, long enough for Emma to squirm around and have her own conversation with Jack. He had just started explaining the point system of hockey but the baby ate it up. The sky was well on it's way to getting dark when Bitty said his good-byes. Emma had fallen asleep with one hand outstretched towards Jack.

 

“Bye y'all,” Rosaline said. “Don't be a stranger if you ever find yourself back in Madison, Jack.” She caught Bitty's hand before he walked away.

 

“That boy's a keeper, Eric.”

 

Bitty hadn't come out to anyone in Madison, but he didn't know _if_ she knew or just really liked Jack. He didn't want to stick around to find out.

 

“He's a good friend,” Bitty said.

 

Rosaline's smile looked sad in the fading light. “Keep in touch, Eric.”

 

Bitty strode across the lawn, waving good-bye to the others. He wiped his feet on the porch mat. Jack was in the kitchen, a burger in one hand. He was talking to Uncle Louis again, Coach unwillingly propping him upright.

 

“—but to put Jeff Gordon in his car? That's a little unnecessary.”

 

Uncle Louis nodded his head against Coach's shoulder. “Too true, Jack. Too true.”

 

Bitty smiled knowingly when Jack caught his eye. To Coach he said, “Mama said we could borrow the truck tonight. I'm gonna take Jack down to get a better view of the fireworks.”

 

“Don't do nothing stupid,” Coach said. “Try Main Street. Heard from Mrs White that's where _everyone's_ going.”

 

Bitty laughed and Coach smirked.

 

“Bless her heart.”

 

Bitty ushered a confused Jack into the bedroom. “You stay here for five minutes and then come out front, okay? Not a moment before.”

 

Jack tilted his head but said, “Okay.”

 

Bitty couldn't resist kissing him, fingers curled around his arms. “Five minutes.”

 

Earlier in the day Bitty had set aside enough food and drinks to satisfy an army. Now he loaded burgers and cookies and chips and sides into an old banged up cooler that Coach used when he went fishing. He refused Coach's offer to help load it into the truck. He waited in the driver's seat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. He had just convinced himself to go inside and get Jack when the man himself stepped outside, waving to someone in the house.

 

“Sorry,” Jack said when he opened the door. “Uncle Louis fell asleep and your dad asked me to help put him to bed. That Dale Earnhardt news got to him pretty bad.”

 

“Speaking of,” Bitty said as he started the car. “Were you just pulling facts out of thin air or what?”

 

Jack scooted into the middle seat. He leaned in like he was going to tell Bitty a secret. “I Googled it.”

 

Bitty laughed. “At least you made an impression on Uncle Louis.”

 

Jack left his head on Bitty's shoulder and pressed slow kisses from his jaw to his shoulder.

 

“You're in a good mood.”

 

“Your family likes me, I'm here with you, I have no reason to be in a bad mood.”

 

“So you're having a good time?”

 

Jack nodded into Bitty's neck. “I do have a question, though,” he said solemnly. “What is everyone's problem with Mrs White?”

 

Bitty laughed. “She's too big for her britches. Everyone loves her like family but we just don't want to spend time with her or talk to her.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She gets too involved. And she's a know it all. Thinks she hung the moon.”

 

“And the poodle?”

 

“The poodle is just a way to prove she's got money, that somehow she's better than everyone else.”

 

“You passed Main, Bittle.”

 

Bitty stayed silent. They pulled up to a big white house. The colonial architecture had Jack raising his eyebrows.

 

“What are we doing here?” he asked as he helped Bitty get the cooler from the back of the truck.

 

“Coach Jackson is on a cruise and I'm house sitting. I have explicit orders to take advantage of all features as payment.”

 

Bitty rounded the side of the house. The wooden fence towered over both Bitty and Jack, giving the back yard the feeling of utmost privacy. Blue light from the pool danced over the ground.

 

“If you would have told me this is what you had in mind I could have changed,” Jack said.

 

Bitty grinned. “Where's the fun in that, Mr Zimmermann?”

 

Bitty loaded the stereo with a mixed CD when he first had the idea so all he had to do was turn on the power and hit play. He slipped out of his flip flops and settled down on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet over the edge. He patted the ground beside him in invitation. Jack sat.

 

They ate and talked about anything and everything. Mrs White's poodle and what exactly this concussion meant for Dale Jr's career and little baby Emma.

 

Bitty shucked off his shirt when Jack turned to put his empty can back in the cooler and slipped into the water. He took pleasure in the slight burning in his lungs before he came back up for air, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow but Bitty spit a stream of water at him before he could say anything.

 

“Gonna join me?” Bitty asked.

 

Jack stood up. He kicked out of his shoes and pulled his top off at the same time. He didn't stop there. He unbuttoned his jean and shimmied out of them too.

 

“See something you like?” Jack asked, his voice a shy imitation of the sultry tone Bitty had pulled over Skype earlier in the summer.

 

“Something like that.”

 

Instead of dropping over the edge like Bitty had done Jack walked around the perimeter of the pool to the steps. Bitty never had trouble imagining Jack's body, but his bare chest and tight briefs and the blue pool lights drawing patterns on his skin would haunt Bitty's sweetest dreams for the rest of his life.

 

Bitty swam backwards as Jack waded further into the water. His feet no longer touched the bottom but the problem resolved itself when Jack got close enough for Bitty to wrap his legs around his waist. It was a sudden jump from the coy game they had been playing since that first Skype call. Jack would call after his run when he was panting and Bitty would send him pictures half awake and half dressed.

 

When Jack's hands slid down Bitty's back to cup his ass it was a different game entirely. Bitty twined his hands in Jack's hair and they stayed still for a moment, soaking in the moment. Then Jack's lips were on Bitty's and as if fate could tell that this was the beginning of something, the fireworks started ten minutes early. Neither of them flinched at the sound, too busy touching and kissing and _being._ Later it would become a joke, a funny story for anniversaries.

 

Jack walked them to the edge of the pool. The cement was hard against Bitty's back, leaving scrapes when he arched into Jack's touch. The next kiss wasn't innocent by any means. Bitty used Jack's shoulders as leverage to [rut] against his stomach and Jack groaned. His hands dipped below the waistband of Bitty's shorts and groped his ass.

 

Jack pulled away and Bitty chased his lips. He kissed Jack's jaw, the shell of his ear, his throat.

 

“Bitty—ah—Bits. Are you sure about this?” Jack asked. “This is your old coach's pool and we don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”

 

Bitty cupped Jack's face in his hands. “I'm pretty sure it was my idea to plan a date where we get half naked and wet so, you could say I want this. It'd be an understatement, but you could say that.”

 

Jack leaned in for another kiss but Bitty stopped him, palm against his mouth. “Do _you_ want to do this?” he asked.

 

Jack's face softened and he nodded, eyes sincere.

 

Bitty removed his hand and kissed Jack with everything he had. It was sloppy and unpracticed on both their parts and their teeth clacked together on more than one occasion because they were smiling so hard.

 

Bitty slipped a hand between their chests, ignoring his own erection in favor of sliding his hand into the front of Jack's briefs. Jack bucked against his hand the minute their skin came in contact and swore under his breath in French. He placed an open-mouthed kiss at the base of Bitty's throat, more for the sake of tasting him than kissing. Bitty gripped the base of Jack's dick tightly before jerking him off in slow and careful motions. The palm of his hand brushed past the tip and Jack's teeth grazed the spot he just kissed, just shy of too sharp.

 

Bitty gasped and his hand stilled.

 

“Sorry, I—“

 

Bitty's hand picked up again, faster. He pulled at Jack's hair. Jack groaned. “My my, Mr Zimmermann. Who would have known you'd be a biter?”

 

The pace Bitty set with his hand was relentless. He enjoyed knowing that Jack Zimmermann was panting against his neck because of the things he did, the things he said.

 

Jack's panting turned into soft whimpers. Bitty considered pulling back but Jack's grip on him tightened and he kissed the same spot of Bitty's neck over and over.

 

Bitty twisted his hand on the upstroke. He wrangled out a choked groan from Jack and another kiss.

 

Bitty recalled a conversation from earlier in the day and weighed his pros and cons. “You're doing so good, baby. Sounding all pretty like that. You—“ Bitty didn't need get to finish. Jack's mouth crashed into his. He let out a single pleased whine before his body spasmed. He came hot and fast over Bitty's hand, panting into his mouth.

 

Bitty worried that Jack's legs would give out but after the tremors subsided Jack stood as solidly as before. He breathed heavily into the next kiss. When they pulled apart he said, “I like that, too. You. Talking about me.” A blush covered his cheeks.

 

Bitty curled his hands in Jack's hair. “Good,” he said. “Because I like talking about you.”

 

The next several kisses were slow and sweet.

 

“Can I blow you?” Jack asked and it was as if God was personally making up for all the years Bitty had felt ashamed for fantasizing about sex.

 

Bitty nodded because he didn't trust his voice. Jack lifted him over the edge of the pool like he weighed nothing and Bitty leaned down to kiss him as he fumbled with the ties on his shorts.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“ _God,_ yes.”

 

Nothing could have prepared Bitty for the sensation of Jack's mouth around his dick. Bitty would have felt self conscious if it weren't for the sounds Jack made, humming and sighing like there wasn't a single thing he'd rather be doing than sucking Bitty off.

 

God must be have felt terribly guilty if he thought Bitty's first everything should be with a guy with a praise kink and an affinity for giving blowjobs.

 

Bitty's cock hit the back of Jack's throat and he couldn't help but moan as Jack swallowed around him. Their eyes met and the sight of Jack looking so pleased and at _sinful_ set a fire in Bitty. He twined the fingers of one hand in Jack's hair, the other keeping him upright.

 

“You're gorgeous, did you know that?”

 

Jack whined around Bitty's cock,

 

“You're doing so well and you look so good, baby.”

 

Jack took Bitty in deep again, his nose brushing the join of Bitty's hip. It was so much so fast; hot and tight and slick. Bitty tugged at his hair. “I'm gonna, Jack I'm—“

 

Jack's hand replaced his mouth and it only took three tugs of his hand for Bitty to fall apart.

 

When Bitty picked his head up he was greeted with a soft smile and dangerously bright eyes. Jack had stripes of come all over; his hair, his eyelashes, his lips. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. Jack licked his lips clean which really out to be illegal for the way it made Bitty's head spin. He scooted closer to the edge, letting Jack take him in his arms and back into the water.

 

“How are you even real, Jack Zimmermann?” Bitty asked, breathless.

 

Jack smiled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

 

“I'm not the expert blowjob giver with come on my face here.”

 

Bitty wiped his fingers through the mess. Before he could wipe his hand Jack took his wrist and licked his fingertips, eyes never leaving Bitty's.

 

“You're enjoying this,” Bitty accused.

 

“You're right. Every last second.”

 

Bitty pulled Jack into a kiss. When they broke apart Bitty took advantage of the momentary pause to splash Jack with water. He swam out of Jack's reach with a smirk. “That is for putting every wet dream I've ever had to shame,” he said.

 

“I could say the same about you,” Jack said before he skimmed the surface of the water with his hand, sending a miniature wave crashing over Bitty's head. He laughed when Bitty shook his hair out like a dog. It was an uncontrollable laugh, one that Bitty had heard only rarely. He wanted to hear it again, wanted to be the cause of it.

 

He wanted that laugh as a ringtone. It was the first thing he wanted to hear in the morning and the last thing before bed.

 

The fireworks weren't going to stop any time soon and Bitty could live with dragging the night on a little longer.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [tumblr](https://www.histrionicdaisy.tumblr.com)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


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